In the Darkness (21 page)

Denua twisted it, and the disk fell away. The pressure in Evin’s ears changed in a painful rush, and sound returned. A heavy, rhythmic thumping sounded from the other side of the door but faltered almost immediately. Denua opened the door and went in. Servants, a man and two women, stood around a table.

“Are you well?” Denua asked.

The elder of the women said, “Yes, Your Majesty. Something stopped our ears, and we couldn’t get out of the room! Did you hear us pounding?” She pointed at the table.

Ah. They were lifting and dropping it.

“No, but you did well to try. Remain here. I will sound an alarm myself, shortly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Denua closed the door and moved on with Evin in tow.

No guards stood at the post in the entrance hall.

Evin decided it was probably safe to ask about the sorceler. “Was he one of yours, Denua? Did he turn against you?”

“It is a risk of working with such people. Occasionally one thinks he has invented an assassination device that will work.”

Evin wondered how often. And how often those devices did work—on people who happened to stand too close to Denua at the wrong moment.

But the thing the sorceler had on his arm, pulling urgently like a child wanting attention… Was it to warn him of Denua’s approach? Had she arrived early as he set up a trap, or was he there for some other purpose altogether?

After finding no other intruders, they returned to the dead man. Near the body, the smells of blood and tripe were noxious. Evin’s stomach rebelled, and to his shame, he vomited.

Denua ignored it. “Do not approach the body or any of his belongings.”

He didn’t want her to get near them, either. He tried to calm himself with the thought that, if the intruding sorceler had any device that would defeat her protection, he probably would have used it first.

She sprinkled a powder over the corpse. Flesh and bone dissolved into a red jelly, and when it was done, she used a cleansing wand to eliminate it. That part of the floor was pristine again. All that remained were the sorceler’s now clean robes, the bag, and the leaping, tumbling skull tapping and chipping itself against the stone floor.

Denua handed the cleansing wand to Evin. “Clean yourself.”

She didn’t mention the mess he’d made or the blood-spattered tapestries, but he planned to cleanse everything.

Denua took the sorceler’s items for examination, including the melted dagger. “There may be enough spark to determine the ensorcelment. I would know why he thought it could penetrate my shield.”

An ensorceled sword and shield. No wonder she never takes the jewelry off.

Denua grasped the leaping skull tightly and pried open its mouth. A strand of hair, black and long enough to be one of hers, wound around its teeth. She removed it, and the skull ceased its struggles.

Chapter Nineteen

Evin fumbled with his collar as he waited for the ensorceled carriage that would take him and his entourage to Parige’s most opulent shopping district. His valet had outfitted him with a brocaded doublet with a stiff, high collar. Over this he wore a dark blue cloak, which was getting uncomfortably hot in the late autumn day. The costume may befit his new position as the queen’s suitor, but to Evin it was a mild form of torture.

Evin stood with his guards at the base of the castle’s marble steps, before a wide pad of bone white cobblestones made bright by the morning sun. Evin imagined they would be blinding later in the day. The four guards stood stiffly, making no remark as Evin continued to fidget with his clothing.

A winged shadow crossed over the group, chasing across the ground until it reached the cobblestone pad. The carriage had arrived. Evin looked up at it in awe.

Wings made of wood and fabric beat the air with decreasing force as it settled to the cobblestone pad. The coach was painted in brilliant white with light traces of gold filigree around the edges and windows of the coach box and along the wooden spars of the wings’ suspension.

As the wings halted and tucked themselves away in their niches at the top of the coach box, Evin felt blood drain from his face. He did not like the idea of traveling in the sorceled coach, especially at the height necessary to cross the castle wall. However, he was determined not to be a frightened child. He would hide his discomfort as much as possible. Despite the roiling of his stomach, he promised himself he would not vomit. But he also decided to sit very close to an open window during flight.

A footman climbed down from his perch and swung open the coach-box door. Evin stepped in, settled on the padded, red velvet seat, and placed his hands in his lap, willing them to be still. His guards took their posts, standing on little platforms attached to the lower four corners of the coach. After they secured themselves to the coach box with small belts, the footman checked them. Then he leaned inside to verify that Evin was settled safely.

“By your leave, your honor.” And when Evin looked at him blankly, he explained. “Shall we depart now?”

“Ah. Yes.” A bead of sweat trickled down Evin’s forehead.

The footman nodded agreement, bowing slightly as he stepped back. He closed and secured the door, then climbed back up to sit with the driver on his perch.

The carriage’s wings extended smoothly out from the coach. The tips rose up at once and quickly beat back down. With an unsteady surge that made Evin’s stomach drop, the carriage leaped into the air. A few more beats and the vehicle was already too high for Evin’s comfort.

* * *

The carriage alighted in a wide space near the gated entrance to the market district. Evin exited as soon as the footman opened the door. He was wobbly with relief. It took a few deep breaths to get himself under control while his escort formed up. When he was ready, he nodded at his guards and everyone started toward the gate.

Evin was relieved in another way too. He had been Denua’s guest for many weeks. Not only had he become accustomed to the comforts and customs of the castle—well, except for when he had to imitate nonsensical manners—but he had also begun to worry that Denua would object to small freedoms, such as allowing him to shop on his own. As far as he knew, she never left the castle. But when Evin had told Denua he wanted his parents to know he was safe, she surprised him by offering to let him shop for small gifts to send along with his tidings. He jumped at the chance.

Somehow he had to let Mama and Papa know he was all right, but secretly. The villagers, especially Tyber’s father, would believe he was a murderer. Evin couldn’t risk that they might contact the queen.

A lump formed in his throat. What would his parents believe? Would they think he was a murderer, or the slave of a murderous demon? And when they found out he was alive, taken as a lover by the same queen who had decreed their daughter’s death? He wondered which news would be worse.

The worst news of all, which he would keep forever from his parents, was that he was not exactly a prisoner. He would let them believe he was trapped here just as they were in Laforet. Indeed it was the truth, but there was a deeper truth.

Being here was exactly what he wanted.

What a stupid idea, that he could walk in from the backwoods and become the queen’s suitor. Impossible. But they were drawn irresistibly to one another. He didn’t want to leave, and he was sure that she wouldn’t let him go. She wanted him. She was fascinated with him, just like Tyber and the others back home had been.

But why? Why was everyone interested in him? What made him special? And he had never been interested in women before. Why Denua? Everything was wrong and confusing.

The one hope he clung to was that he might find out more about what had happened to Teffaine. If he found she was alive, perhaps Denua would release her, let her go home. Loving Denua would be forgivable if he could use that love to heal his family.

He shook his head to clear it as he entered the shopping district’s gate.

A wide avenue stretched before him with a row of luxury storefronts down each side, and in the center was an area where tent canopies covered temporary vending stalls. Shoppers strolled down the street and through the stalls, the men in their finery and the women wearing brightly colored gowns and carrying parasols. Occasionally someone would make a purchase and a servant would rush away to carry the treasure to a home or carriage. Evin stood a moment to watch the bustle and take in the sights and smells of the market.

He wasn’t looking forward to going into the snootier shops, so he decided to visit the stalls in the open air first. Evin detected a mouthwatering aroma of meat pies and considered buying one. But first he simply walked to the closest stall to see what was on offer.

The stall keeper, an old woman, saw the palace guards. She feigned utter delight to see Evin. “Welcome, your lordship! Might I demonstrate any item?”

Evin was nervous about the mistaken honorific. He glanced at his guards, but they offered no reaction. “I don’t have a title, madame.”

“Ah, your honor,” she said.

“What are these things?” Evin scanned the array of objects.

“This”—she touched a wand—“be a cleansing wand that remove dirt from your honor’s loverly clothes.”

“I’m familiar with those.”

“I sell many a one to fine dandies—not gentlemen such as your honor, acourse—who need a way to…freshen themselves after a hard night on the town. Before going home to the little lady, as it be.”

“And these green shells here. How are they sorceled?”

“Ah, now these loverlies are also popular with the dandies! There be a special powder within, to help a reveler keep vital during those forementioned nights on the town.”

“I see.”

“And for the morning after, this be the trick.” She handed him a small stone from the other end of her lineup. When she put it into his palm, a wave of warmth washed quickly through him. “Touch it to dispel all effects of drink and drunkenness.”

Indeed he felt refreshed, as if all the wine he had drunk these weeks in the palace had dulled him and, by touching the stone, he returned fully to life.

All the stall keeper’s items held simple sorcelments that would ease small aspects of daily life. As Amaury had explained, the queen permitted the sale of such objects because of their limited and unthreatening utility. Even so, they were items rarely if ever seen in Evin’s village. The cleansing wand in particular was useful enough to be a good gift for his mother but not so exotic as to make other village folk jealous. In the end, he purchased a cleansing wand for his mother and
soberstones
for his father and himself.

Evin finished his purchase, then asked the way to a jewelry shop Uliette had mentioned. The stall keeper knew of it, and so after he understood her directions, he started to go there.

As his group passed the stall where the meat pies were sold, his eye was drawn to the man who cooked the pies on a griddle suspended above a fire pit. The cook’s hair was black and curly, and he had a strip of beard along the jawline, reminding Evin strongly of—

“Gareth,” he whispered, and time stopped.

Something crashed open and flooded within him, grief that had been shut away until this moment. Evin stumbled over to the wooden bench behind the meat pie vendor’s stall. He sat down heavily, overcome by a whirlwind of misery. His hands shook. He stared down at them, seeing them from far away. It was as if he were in the bottom of a well, looking up at a picture of the world. Everything was upside down inside.

Oh, Gareth, no.

Evin had promised to protect him but had only got him killed. And Gareth had loved Evin; he’d said as much by mistake. How had Evin repaid his trust and love? What kind of monster could betray someone so thoroughly, then betray his memory by forgetting?

What is wrong with me?

His nose was running. He snuffled and used a rough, brocaded sleeve to dry his eyes, then gave up. He crossed his arms on his knees and bent to press his face into them. He rocked a little as he cried, ignoring a hand on his shoulder and whoever was asking if he was all right.

Chapter Twenty

Simone rapped on the sitting room door. Evin opened it shortly but scowled when he saw her and simply returned to sprawl in one of the chairs positioned before the unlit fireplace. He bade her sit with a languid gesture.

Doesn’t take long to learn a noble’s petulance, I suppose
. She took a seat.

“I heard there was some trouble in the market today,” she said.

He made an exasperated noise. “How much trouble am I gonna be in for that? I had a weak moment. I’m tired of hearing about it already.”

She noted his half-empty goblet on the table by his chair.
He’s still upset. Drinking to calm himself
. “I’m afraid you have no choice, son. I must learn what happened and why. My men and I will protect the queen. This is to protect you too.”

“You weren’t there. That old lady was nice to me. She sold me some trinkets and she was polite and they tore her stand apart. They were talking about taking her to the dungeon to make her say what she did to me, but she didn’t do anything!” His hands shook as he drank, but he glared at her defiantly.

“What did you touch when you were at the market?”

“The stuff I bought. The guards took it all. Nothing else. Nobody touched me before I got sad.
Nobody
.”

She sat back in her chair and appraised him.
Naturally he’s angry, because he’s embarrassed
. Yes, but his concern for the old woman seemed sincere. How many pretty Parigian youths would care a fig about the merchant woman?

She softened her voice. “You just felt upset? You don’t think anyone did anything to you in the market?”

“Exactly. How many times do I have to say it?”

“No more. I believe you. All right?”

Evin’s eyes searched her face for a moment; then he visibly relaxed. He adjusted himself in the chair as if a parent had scolded him for his posture. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Will you tell me what upset you?”

His gaze moved away. “Everything’s changed. Don’t you understand that?”